


Present/Past

by Heronfem



Series: Steps [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hasty Marriage, Introspection, Love, M/M, Time Skips, mentioned Cullen/Krem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: Dorian and The Iron Bull arrange for a honeymoon. //  Dorian and The Iron Bull marry.Snapshots in time.





	Present/Past

_Present_

The house is quiet. 

Dorian wakes up feeling heavy, his chest weighed down without so much as a feather on it, and sighs as he pulls his arm over his face. The other side of the bed is still warm, the indent where his husband slept still soft from his weight, and he rolls over to steal Bull’s pillow and pull it to his chest, curling around it and closing his eyes again. He can faintly hear the shower going, the tata-tata-tata of the water hitting the tile floor, and he breathes deep to catch Bull’s scent. It’s a comforting mix of man-smell and the light floral perfume he wears, and the weight on his heart eases a little. 

The shower turns off, the bathroom door opening, and Dorian cracks open an eye in response. 

Bull smiles at him from the door, picking up his eyepatch and carefully strapping it on as he sidles up to the bed. Dorian smiles, shoulders relaxing as Bull leans down to kiss the top of his head. 

“Bright the morning, _kadan_.” 

“Mmm, avanna, _amatus_.” Dorian sits up, catching his hand and pulling him down for a real kiss. Bull indulges him despite the morning breath, and Dorian’s heart lightens completely. “Work today?”

“Yep. Chargers are out and about, I’m catching up on paperwork. Want to join me in the office?” 

Dorian thinks of Bull’s cramped, loud office, all of its stacks of paper and file cabinets, and shudders delicately. Bull laughs, kissing his forehead before walking away and pulling off his towel to get dressed. Dorian flops back in the bed, watching him dress with a soft smile. 

“You, my love,” he says, “are terribly beautiful.” 

Bull barks a laugh, turning to look at him. “What’s that about?”

“Nothing,” Dorian says, smiling. “It simply delights me to look upon you.” 

There’s a hint of a flush on Bull’s face, and he ducks his head to try to hide his smile. He fails, and Dorian’s heart squeezes with fondness. He reclines as Bull puts on his shirt, feeling infinitely better than even just a few minutes earlier. 

“What are you up to today?” Bull asks as he turns around, going to fetch his belt from where it wound up on the floor the night before. “Research?”

“It looks that way, unfortunately,” Dorian sighs, and climbs out of bed to fetch his own clothes. It’s definitely time to start the day. “I thought I might also run those books back to Krem and Cullen, maybe go for a nice long walk. Message Felix and bug him about running those calculations for me about time travel.” 

Bull snorts, grinning. “You’re a terror.” 

“Time magic is entirely possible, Bull, I’m going to do it!” 

Bull tightens his belt, shaking his head. “I know you will, that’s what scares me. Alright, ideas for breakfast?”

“As if you aren’t already planning something,” Dorian sniffs, and together they walk down the stairs. 

The house is already growing warmer with the sunlight streaming in through their windows. The kitchen is growing steadily warmer, soothing and pleasant. They cook together, comfortably balanced as they dance back and forth in the kitchen, spinning around each other with the ease of long practice. They reach out and touch, fingers brushing here and there as scones are heated and honey gathered, plates brought down and silverware gathered. 

Dorian sets the table as Bull brings the food. There have been fewer of these quiet mornings recently. 

“We should take a vacation.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can think about it, and Bull hums, pausing. 

“I'd feel bad leaving the boys…” he says hesitantly, in the tones that suggest he wants to be convinced. 

“But you do love your husband,” Dorian teases. “And you've yet to give me a honeymoon.”

Bull goes still, his eye turning soft and thoughtful. 

Dorian braces his chin in his hand, looking up at his husband. “Would you like that?” 

Bull sighs, sitting down across from him and reaching over to take his free hand. Dorian tangles their fingers together, squeezing gently as Bull looks at the table, his face gone sad and somber. The clock ticks on the wall, its noisy mechanism filling the room with sound. 

“Yes,” Bull says at last, looking up at him. “Yes, I would. But _kadan_ -” 

“No complaints,” Dorian insists. “None of that nonsense. I love you. I love you more than I have words, in all honesty, and I don’t care. I want us to be happy. I want us to have a joyous, happy life together, where we can go where we want and find joy just because we’re both there. You make me happy. You make me happier than I ever dreamed I could be. I was- I was an entirely different person when we met, and you have worked tirelessly to make me happy and ensure that I had a full and comfortable life. Please. For once in your life, my ridiculous man, be a little bit selfish.” 

Bull huffs out a laugh, raising their joined hands to kiss his knuckles. “Pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.” 

“Well, you can say it the next time I’m being particularly self sacrificing and annoying,” Dorian says, matter of fact, and leans in to kiss his forehead. “The Chargers are adults, much as you mother them. _Krem_ is even an adult, now. Married and everything. You aren’t leaving them alone without a raft to float on, they’re professionals and they know how to do good work. They’ll understand.”

“I just don’t know that we should-”

“We deserve good things,” Dorian says firmly. “We always have. Maker, Bull, we've been in need of a vacation for an eternity, and we deserve a honeymoon. Let's just go.”

“I love you,” Bull tells him with aching tenderness. Dorian sniffs, cheeks going warm. 

“As you should. Now, if you’ll pass me some of the bread?”

Bull kisses his cheek, and passes it over.

 

_Past_

Dorian Pavus is 26 years old. He is 26, and alone in the world, and he is very hungry. He arrives in Ferelden with the clothes on his back and a single suitcase full of books, an acceptance letter to the doctoral program at Denerim University’s Fade Studies program clenched tight in his hand. It takes him 15 days to convince the government it isn’t faked, and then he’s plopped down at the university like so much luggage himself. 

3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days after he moves to Denerim, Dorian is regretting his entire life and wondering if perhaps the University of Val Royeaux might have been a better option. The answer, as he soon learns, is no. 

Dorian is willing to admit that he perhaps isn't the most aware person when it comes to his surroundings. Which is exactly why when he's lost in thought over the implications of the very interesting machine that's just been discovered in the Frostbacks, he runs directly into an unmoving person and his books go flying everywhere. He falls with a yelp, shocked into the present.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he says, hurrying to pick up his books. "I was lost in...thought…"

"Not a problem, big guy," says the living wall he ran into, and one massive hand picks up his notebook to hand it back. They both stand up and Dorian's cheeks heat as they take each other in. "Copper for the thoughts that had you so out of it?"

The Qunari before him is tall, enormous, broad, with a craggy face and an eyepatch covering his left eye socket. He’s got enormous, jutting horns, a thin bladed, beautifully arched nose, and a clever mouth curved into an easy smile. His left hand is missing some joints on the last two fingers, and there’s a fascinating leather-and-metal brace on his ankle over his boots. He is, quite easily, the most handsome man that Dorian may have ever seen. 

Dorian licks his lips. “A bit, cheap, don’t you think? Only coppers? Certainly, I’m worth gold pieces or more.” 

The Qunari’s grin grows, and he looks Dorian over with a flattering eye. Dorian resists preening by the skin of his teeth. “Yeah, I’d say you’re worth a good bit more. Maybe I could buy you dinner in exchange?” 

Dorian’s face heats, and he’s never been quite so glad that his blush doesn’t show. “Oh. I. Yes, actually, that would be- that would be quite acceptable.” 

And that's where it starts. A lively discussion over spicy food, both of them sniping and flirting across the table with their feet tangled together. A spark, kindling into a flame. Numbers are exchanged, kisses follow, and what might have been a passing fancy grows into a friendship, to a courtship, until it’s late autumn and a letter comes that leaves Dorian’s hands perpetually cold and his heart tight. Stories are exchanged, whispers of hot and humid Seheron and a father far too commanding and cold. They grow ever more entangled, and Dorian cannot bring himself to mind. 

It comes to a head in an unexpected way, abrupt as it started.

“My father,” Dorian says, and stops where he stands. 

The wind rushes and tugs at his clothes, and he pulls his coat tighter around him. They’re in a park in Denerim, the kind of place where children are playing. Autumn has come down and gripped the city in her cool hands, and Dorian is dressed in warm wool- a gift, a soft coat that Bull had given him just weeks before. His breath is taken by the wind, scooped out of his mouth and added to the dancing leaves. Bull steps in front of him, looking down, and Dorian looks up. The world is spinning, just a touch, everything whirling around him as the leaves catch and rise up into the sky. 

Bull’s voice is soft, so terribly soft as he says, “What about your father?” 

What about Halward Pavus indeed.

“He has the power to take me back,” Dorian says at last. The words weigh on his tongue. “Until I am married, I am essentially the property of the Pavus estate. He threatened to take me back unless I agreed to a marriage arrangement that he’s selected. Tevinter law is harsh. I’m not sure I have any avenue of escape.” He walks over to a nearby bench, sitting down heavily. Bull follows after him, stopping in front of him. 

“Of course you do. Marry me.” 

Dorian looks up, jaw dropping. “Beg pardon?”

Bull’s face is completely serious. “Marry me, Dorian. Stay here. I can’t promise you wealth, but I can promise you a loving home. Don’t give me your answer right now, but… think about it.” 

Beyond them, children laugh and play. Their voices are high and happy, the creaking call of pushed swings reaching them. 

"I don't need to think about it," Dorian says at last, shaking his head. "I would marry you in an instant, even without my father's threat hanging over the pair of us. You… you have filled my days with so much happiness and warmth, and in all honesty I never thought that would be something I could have." 

Bull reaches over, taking his hands. His eye fixes on Dorian’s face, somehow heavy. “You deserve a lot more than just happiness, Dorian. You deserve love, and if one day you find it in someone else I will let you go and walk you down the aisle to him myself. If I can’t make you happy, and you find someone who can, I’ll move all Thedas to make it happen. It took me a real long time to learn that lesson for myself.” 

“You,” Dorian says, hands shaking in Bull’s grip, “had better get me a truly magnificent ring when this is all over.” 

"I will find you the best in the world," Bull promises as he kisses his forehead. "And not when it’s over, I'll go tomorrow. Want to get married this weekend?"

"Yes. I'll get my suit dry cleaned. And you’d better have a shirt on when we go." 

Bull smiles, and it feels like hope. 

Vivienne de Fer is one of their witnesses, Sera the other. They come without question on the day of, Vivienne rolling up in a sleek silver town car and Sera on a skateboard. Dorian doesn’t quite dare ask how Bull knows _the_ Madame de Fer, and Bull just raises an eyebrow when Sera waltzes in with a wicked grin and a bottle of champagne. The ceremony is brief, the papers signed quickly, and then they’re whisked off for yet more paper signing. At the end of the day, following two trips to the consulate, Dorian Pavus-Bull is now officially a citizen of Ferelden and a married man. 

They find some sandwiches and head to the park, sitting on a bench together as the sun sets. There’s something oddly domestic about it, something happy.

“Married,” Bull says quietly. “Didn’t think I’d ever do that, but I’m glad it’s you.” 

“And I’m glad it’s you,” Dorian says, leaning against his shoulder. The ring is simple, plain gold with tiny black stones all the way around it, and his heart swells a little just looking at it. It truly is perfect. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

 

_Present_

Cullen has a kind smile, the worst of what the world’s thrown at him washed away by the happiness he now knows and, from what he’s told Dorian, copious amounts of therapy. Poppy stays still at his feet, knowing she’s on duty, and Dorian carefully ignores her in favor of inching into the house and taking off his shoes. 

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Cullen says, closing the door behind him. Poppy leans her massive body against his leg, grounding him. “Any reason in particular for the visit, or did you just want to see us?” 

“A bit of both, really.” Dorian straightens, smiling at him. “Bull and I intend to go on a honeymoon, finally. I thought I’d run some ideas by you.” 

Cullen lights up. “A honeymoon! Dorian, I’m glad to hear it.”

Krem gets home around 1 o’clock from his work to find them both sitting at the table and pouring over maps and brochures that Cullen’s accumulated over the years. The entire table is coated in the things, some of them having spilled off the edges of the table. One is currently forming a hat on Poppy’s head.

“What are you two up to?” 

“Bull has finally agreed to a honeymoon,” Dorian tells him, beaming. “I was out for a walk and thought I’d come here for some ideas. You liked Nevarra, right?” 

Krem rolls his eyes, dropping a kiss to the top of Cullen’s head as he passes towards the kitchen. “I mean, yeah, but I also wasn’t exactly running around Nevarra itself too much. The hotel was nice though. Good beds.” 

Cullen squawks as Dorian laughs. “Krem!”

“What, it’s the truth!” 

“You don’t need to say it, though-!” 

Dorian stays for dinner when Bull texts him that a job has run late, laughing with his not-son and son-in-law as Cullen preps a heavily spiced dinner and Krem breaks out the good wine.

“One day,” Krem says as he pours the wine, “we’re going to throw you a big proper wedding. All the trimmings, flowers and gold and a shitton of curry and good food. A whole fucking party, maybe on a beach, and you are going to wear the best things we can find and deck Bull’s horns out with string lights.” 

He flops down hard on the couch, solid next to Dorian, and Dorian leans into him with a sigh. 

“I love him, you know,” he says. “I love him more than I can say. And you, as well, my ridiculous not-child.” 

“Fuck off,” Krem says cheerfully, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You drive me nuts.” 

“Isn’t that what family is for?” 

Krem’s smile grows as Poppy dances around Cullen’s feet, begging for a piece of bacon. Cullen keeps trying to shoo her away without luck. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.” 

Dorian smiles, and Krem gently squeezes him in a hug. 

“You know,” Dorian says quietly, “you make me wonderfully happy. I’m so glad I have someone else to complain about Tevinter with, someone who’s my family and a ‘Vint.” 

“Hey now, I’m only a sort of ‘Vint.” 

“That’s the best kind.” 

Krem laughs, both of them watching as Cullen gives in and gives Poppy the smallest piece of bacon possibly ever cooked. Her hind end wags frantically, and she barks happily before winding around his legs to sit on his feet. Cullen sighs, shaking his head as Krem and Dorian laugh. 

“I’m stuck for good,” he gripes without any heat, and dishes their food up.

“Welcome home,” Krem murmurs, and Dorian’s smile grows soft.

 

_Past_

Dorian Pavus-Bull is 26, and moving his things into the house of someone he barely knows. Dorian Pavus-Bull is married, and has a step son he’s only somewhat met, through phone calls and tense letters, who’s serving his country and has just been injured, and Dorian Pavus-Bull might be, not to put too fine a point on it, over his head.

“That goes in the office,” he says as Bull gamely troops through the house with a stack of boxes braced in his huge arms. “By the bookshelves. Really, Bull, I can carry some of my own things-”

“It's not a problem,” Bull says, stepping into the house and whistling as he goes. Dorian trails after him, cheeks going pink as he watches Bull’s muscles flex with the weight as he adjusts the boxes. 

“I know, but really…” 

Bull just laughs and heads up the stairs. Dorian follows, pausing halfway up. There's a number of pictures hung there. Some are of the Chargers, but most are Bull with his son. Who Dorian has yet to meet. 

He touches the picture of a teenage boy with a big smile and a mess of badly cut hair mid laugh. Krem, Bull calls him. Cremisius is his legal name, thoroughly Tevene. He'd gone into the Ferelden military at 18, and just recently been caught in something gone awry that had forced a very early retirement at 21. He's due to meet his step son soon. 

Bull comes back down the stairs, pausing to take a look at where Dorian's staring. 

"He's going to hate me, you know," Dorian sighs. "I'm an interloper in his house that he's never even met. We should have waited a bit."

"With your asshole father breathing down your neck, we didn't have a choice," Bull reminds him, kissing his temple. "Come on. Help me with the rest of the boxes, get your mind off of it."

They get Dorian moved in. Bull leaves at 3:45 to pick up things for dinner. And at precisely 4 o'clock the front door opens. 

"I'm home," a rich, unfamiliar voice calls. Deep under the layers of practiced diction, Dorian can hear the faint lilt of a Vyrantium accent. He steels himself, and walks into the entry hall. 

"Welcome home," he says.

Cremisius Aclassi is arguably the most handsome man that Dorian has ever seen in real life, even if he is glaring daggers at him and has a cane that looks like it could double as a club. 

“So,” he says, frostily polite. “You're the husband, huh?”

Dorian wants to wilt into the floor and shrivel up to die, but years of practice have his back staying ramrod straight. “That would be me, yes.” 

“Hmm.” Cremisius’s eyes narrow. “An altus, slumming it in Ferelden. Just what we need.”

"Not an altus any more, I'm afraid. Ah, Bull is out grabbing groceries, he should be back any minute." Dorian's hands want to fidget, but years of training keeps them still. "Can I get you anything?" 

"No." 

Krem stalks into the living room, and that's that. Dorian closes his eyes, and accepts that this is his life now. 

The evening is tense. Dorian escapes to bed early, and drags a pillow over his head to block out the muffled waves of voices as Bull and Krem argue downstairs. It is at least not violent arguing. Bull and Krem are both adults, and they know how healthy communication is supposed to go. Supposed to bring the operative word. Bull, after all, had married him without even consulting his son. Krem had no say in Dorian joining his life. 

It’s late when Bull joins him in bed. He sighs as he pulls the covers up, and Dorian gives up the pretense of sleep, climbing into this arms to rest his head on his chest. 

“I’m sorry to make you fight,” he says quietly. 

“Nah, it wasn’t much of one,” Bull says, rubbing his hand over Dorian’s back. Krem is down the hall in his own room, the door shutting loud enough that Dorian hears it. “We just hashed some things out and got some clarity.” 

“It’s strange, being in a house where people can do that without fear.” Dorian runs his fingers over Bull’s chest. “I like it.” 

Sleep claims him fast with Bull beside him, his heart warmer and settled inside. 

The peace doesn’t last long. 

Krem declares his intention to stay for the week. He flits in and out of the house with and without Bull, coming and going at odd hours and always eyeing Dorian with slight suspicion. Dorian makes himself busy with unpacking the office that’s soon to become his permanent workspace. Dorian is, in a word, tense. But he finds himself happy too, whistling as he hangs pictures and shelves books, smiling when Bull surprises him with a lovely collection of wyvern bones. He is, in spite of everything, happy. The happiest he may have ever been.

The doorbell rings four days into Krems residency. Dorian doesn’t even think as he comes down the stairs, and pulls it open. 

It’s a choice he immediately regrets.

“Father,” he says frostily. “What the fuck are you doing on my doorstep.”

Halward Pavus is in his doorway. He has encroached on Dorian’s space, come to his very home. Who knows who he’s bribed for the address. Dorian’s mind, in the middle of its frantic whirring, notes, _We’re going to have to move again._  
2  
Halward brushes down his jacket. "I've come to take you home, Dorian. I've tired of this teenage rebellion, it is time to grow up."

"Time to- what?" Dorian can't help laughing, even though it's slightly unhinged. "I'm in my twenties, I'm nearly 30. I'm a First Enchanter. I'm married, I have a step son. You think this is a teenage rebellion? Where were you when I was an actual teenager?"

"Dorian," Halward sighs. “My only son deserves better than to be a kept man for some _beast_ -” 

“I'm not a kept man,” Dorian snaps, hackles raising. “I'm not some pet, to be toyed with and fucked and discarded to it's own work when he's bored. I was lucky enough to find a husband who loves me with genuine care, and I don't care in the slightest what you think of me, I- I am happy! I am happy, and home, and you cannot take that from me anymore. Leave me be."

Halward shakes his head, sighing. "At least you have an heir now, one that's Tevene. A foolish boy, playing at being soldier, but that is something easily corrected with time." 

Dorian has always had a penchant for flames. His mother claims it comes from his father's side of the family, their fiery tempers and deep worn passions. Dorian personally thinks it's just because he likes the reassuring warmth that fire brings as it licks up his arms. 

"If you so much as breathe 100 yards from my family ever again," Dorian says, voice razor sharp, "I will duel you, and kill you. You threaten what is mine ever again and I will delight in ripping you to shreds. Get off of my porch, get out of my life, and never speak to me again."

His face must be a terrifying thing, as Halward stumbles back, ashen. 

"Dorian…" 

"Your bloodline and legacy dies with me, father," Dorian says without sympathy. "Goodbye."

He slams the door and throws the bolt, the flames dying on his arms as he throws wards on every door to lock Halward out for good. He needs to go over the windows as well, imbed permanent wards to defend against possible attack. 

His hands are shaking. 

He slumps to the floor, hands fisting in his hair. He knows full well that this isn't the last he'll see of Halward Pavus, but for now at least he's free. 

Still, a spark of fury is smoldering in his chest. He gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen to work on food for dinner. Chopping vegetables is a good stress release, and he wants curry. 

A few hours later, Krem comes through the door and into the kitchen. "Why's the entryway stinking like mage smoke?"

Dorian slams the lid on the curry pot, taking a deep breath before turning to Krem. 

"You," he says firmly, ignoring how his eyes are watering. "Are a good man. You are strong, and smart, and brave, and better than all of Tevinter combined. Let no one tell you otherwise, and if they do, I will curse their toes off." 

Krem looks slightly pole-axed. “Uh.” 

“I mean it.” Dorian furiously wipes at his eyes, turning back to his bubbling curry. “You are a good man just as you are, and anyone who can’t see that is a fool, or willfully blind. Now sit down, I’ve made curry. How spicy do you like it?” 

“...Vyrantium style.” 

“Good. The only way to eat it.” 

Krem walks up, fetching two plates out of the cabinet. He seems off balance, and keeps glancing sidelong at Dorian out of the corner of his eye as if he’s trying to puzzle him out. Dorian ignores him in favor of furiously stirring the rice. 

“Something happen?” Krem asks when they’ve sat down with their food at the old round table. Dorian absently wonders how many of the scars that criss cross it were from Krem’s adventures growing up. 

Dorian’s mouth twists. “My father happened.” 

Krem’s eyebrows raise. “Isn’t your father…” 

“A giant thorn in my side, a festering pustule upon humanity, incredibly wealthy, and able to figure out where I live through copious amounts of what was likely bribery? Why, yes,” Dorian says viciously, stabbing at his food. “He showed up today. On the doorstep. And made rather a lot of insinuations about my sex life, and Bull, and you- and I don’t even know how he found out about you, but this _bastard_ thinks that I have rather conveniently given him an heir, and I hate him for it.” 

Krem blinks. “What.” 

“Altus, remember? My father’s obsessed with legacy.” Dorian glares at his food. “Fuck his legacy. We all deserve better than that. Eat your curry." 

Krem does, still staring at him a little. "Ooookay." 

Bull arrives home little later, raising an eyebrow at the clear magic stench in the hallway. Dorian, lost in his own thoughts as he does the dishes, barely even notices.

“Something happen?” Bull asks, walking up behind him and running one massive, calming handover Dorian’s back. It’s as if all his stress is simply pulled out of him with one simple touch, and Dorian’s shoulders relax. 

“My father showed up at our door.” 

“What?” Bull demands, immediately on edge. “Today?” 

“Yes. I scared him off for now, I think.” Dorian sets the last dish in the drain, turning around and planting his face into Bull’s broad chest. “I’m very tired.” 

“I believe it, _kadan_ ,” Bull says, gently rubbing his back. 

“Come on, I know it’s early but you should get some rest.” 

“I suppose so.” Dorian sighs. “I am truly growing to hate that man. Let me put a few things away, sit for a moment.” 

Bull obliges, dropping down on the comfortable kitchen chair. Dorian fusses with the leftovers, boxing it up. There’s something weirdly fragile about the moment, some strange and crystalizing beat that has him hesitating to move. Silence falls soft around them. 

“You know,” Bull says, clearing his throat. 

“Hmm?” Dorian’s fingers are tight on the boxed food.

“I’m here. And I’ll keep being here for whatever you need,” Bull says, and Dorian stops dead. His heart thuds in his chest before he turns to look at him properly. 

“Do you mean that?” 

“Of course I mean that,” Bull says, completely serious. He braces an elbow on the table, frowning just a little. “You’re my husband and a good man, I don’t want you to suffer. If what you need is to go run around in the desert and yell at rocks, we’ll do it. If what you need is to set Halward on fire in a convenient warehouse, we can do that too. I’m easy.” He blinks with deliberation. 

Dorian laughs in spite of himself, heart warming. “Bull, did you just try and wink at me?” 

“I didn’t try, I succeeded.” 

Dorian snorts, shaking his head. “Menace.” 

“Yep.” 

They climb into bed later that night and Dorian rolls over to rest his head on Bull’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. It’s strong, resolute. There’s a warmth to the man that’s more than physical, and it makes Dorian feel as though he’s wrapped in the softest velvet, curled up and coddled in safety away from the world.

 _Teach me what it is to love_ , he thinks, and lets sleep well up to take him. The first steps are done, the road set out on. Now all that remains is to travel it well. 

 

_Present_

“I can’t believe your grand plan for a honeymoon was to go to the Hinterlands of all places,” Bull huffs as he lugs their bags into the room. The villa is beautiful, the brilliant red walls and lake overlook stunning. The rocky gray cliff faces have scant plant life clinging to them, all of it strange in comparison to what they both grew up with, and Dorian absolutely loves it. 

“I like it here,” Dorian admits. “It’s my favorite place in Ferelden, and the story is just so sweet.” 

Bull smiles, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “I do have to give you that.” 

Dorian flops out on the bed, sprawling languidly as Bull climbs in beside him. “So, darling husband of mine, what would you like to do first? Hiking? Swimming? Feeding each other strawberries dipped in chocolate while having flower petals rained down on us from above?”

“I mean,” Bull laughs, “we could just spend the time screwing each others brains out. That’s what honeymoons are for, right?” 

“Well, yes,” Dorian says, tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “Be that as it may, we’re both only so young these days, and I’d quite like to do some hiking around the area. Lake Luthias is quite close, and Vallamar is open to guests now. I thought you might like to see it.” 

“I _absolutely would_ ,” Bull enthuses, eye lighting up. 

“I’d call you a nerd but you’d just agree with me,” Dorian sighs, not bothering to hide his smile. “You’re impossible to bully.” 

Bull laughs, deep in his chest, and Dorian basks in how it echoes in his ears.

The walk to Lake Luthias takes them through a winding little canyon, the steep walls of the Hinterland’s mountains soaring up on either side. There are little shrines on the way, Elvhen, and Dorian lets Bull take his time lingering at them and enthusing about their age. Archeology is Bull's passion, and Dorian loves him for it. He keeps their fingers tangled together, both of them joined even as they meander through the pushes and pause in the shrines. It takes them a minute to climb the steep stairs leading them to Lake Luthias.

The lake itself is a shallow thing, deep enough to swim in some parts but mostly just deep enough to go to the waist. Blood lotus sways in the shallows, the flowers open and soaking up the early afternoon sun as they sit on the banks. Vallamar is close, they can go in a minute. 

“Did you ever think that this would be what your life would be like?” Dorian asks, looking up at his husband. Their fingers at tangled together still, palms pressed flat against each other.

“No,” Bull says honestly, looking over the lake. “Not a chance. Wouldn't have dreamed it in a million years. But I'm glad it is what it is. Us, this place, everything. We won out in the end, I think. Out of all the crap we’ve both been through, we won.”

“We really have.” 

Dorian leans his head against Bull's shoulder, sighing quietly. "You know… you told me once that I deserved love, not just happiness. I don't think I ever thanked you for that, but I do… I do think about it all the time. So thank you, _amatus_. Because it was exactly what I needed to hear. And I don’t know when I fell in love with you. Maybe I loved you all along and just couldn’t see it, but I do know that one day I woke up and realized there hadn’t been a single day that wasn’t filled with happiness and adoration with you around. I didn’t know what love was meant to be but you showed me, day after day. Thank you."

Bull's hand gently squeezes his, his smile soft. "I love you, _kadan_. I'm glad you're my husband." 

"As am I, my love, as am I."

And all, Dorian thinks, is well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the kind person who made this fic possible! I've wanted to write Dorian and Bull's story in the Steps universe for a while, and while we've only seen snapshots of it, I really love how this turned out. 
> 
> You can find/support me as @heronfem on tumblr, and @HeronVinn on twitter! Please do leave a comment with your thoughts.


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